Artman hammered away at the wooden block in front of him, chisel happily kicking away pieces of dry pine wood from the main body as he reached for the shapes trapped within. The familiar lines splayed out in front of him on the diagram he'd prepared, marked in dry charcoal as he shaved the fine timber into a vaguely human shape. He stopped to check his measurements, marked out in intervals along the surface of the future Wooden Man.

A loud bump at the door made his head turn, putting down his tools and brushing the chips from his leather work apron and walked to the door, pushing it open. As he did, Maven brushed past him like a dark wind as she hustled into the workspace carrying a large basket in her arms. The two swirled together as the door slammed shut from a firm kick from Artman's arial power, the two figures exchanging a deep kiss before Maven pulled back and spoke in a bemused tone.

"Well, Good to see you too. I take it you missed me terribly." her lips curling up at the corners to form a playful smile, a coy grin meant to tease.

"Only because I can't seem to forget about you, all those days and nights posing, seemed to have engrained the image of your backside into my mind."

Maven giggled a touch "You soft romantic, I'll be sorry to break your heart. But then again, maybe not." She pushed him away gently as she set her load down on the table next to Artman's tools. "And what is this? Why do say you've made a statue of me, I haven't even left you yet to be down this bad," Artman shook a finger at her, chiding her remarks.

"You know well what this is, It's the first stages of my project for San German. See how I've shortened the lines here, to accommodate the changes in size and frame. Though I may have taken inspiration from your shapeliness' to bring it all together."

"Ah, yes, I do love the shape of my own body. Luscious and prone to causing madness, my favorite traits." They kissed again while Artman muttered a soft rebuke under his breath. Maven pulled back sharply and turned to her package.

"While you were immortalizing my features, I was out shopping for something a little humbler. I went into town and picked up This!" She pulled a long grey stretch of fabric from the basket and twirled about the workshop floor to display the articles of her expedition.

"Well, what do you think? Fabulous isn't?" She probed, eyes and teeth flashing in a bright smile, more than looked comfortable for her.

"Great, what is it?" came Artman's blunt response. The face of Maven fell back a notch into a more familiar posture "It a robe silly, and more importantly It's your Magicians robe. I was picking it up for you while out doing, errands." her pause had Artman folding his arms.

"Oh, don't give me that look, just because I like to have friends while you work all day doesn't make me a floosy." She gave a slight pout, then it became a sigh. "You already have one, don't you?" she asked. Artman walked to the door, or rather the coatrack by the door and pulled down the gray mantel, stitched about the hem in gold thread in a series of protective sigils and wards, and with the Cross and Rose across the breast above the heart. The sign of the Magician's Order.

"Came by messenger this morning with the lumber, and a few other things" Artman nervously glanced towards a large apparatus of glass lenses and globes standing behind Maven. It wasn't even halfway out its crate before he'd started working on his new Wooden Man. He'd been really excited to mess with it, but work was work, and to be honest he didn't have to time for experiments with strange new equipment.

His training with the Mage Shape had fallen something to the wayside as well. A disappointment he hoped to set right after finishing the main body of the dummy. It wouldn't be until he began work on the line of enchantments that it would be a Wooden Man, or in this case a Wooden Dancer. He would truly require Maven's body for this, this newer version would need a complete overhaul for the types of fine, complex, graceful movements required. He may also take this opportunity to improve and simplify some of his current techniques as well.

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A gentle hand at his shoulder stirred his thoughts.

"Art, did you hear me? What should I do with this?"

It was Maven, the purchased cloak was hanging from the end of her hand. Her terse face demanding answer to a question he hadn't heard.

"Oh, um, just throw it over there. Unless you want to wear it, as my assistant." he politely offered. Maven looked at him for a second, flashing dark eyes contemplative for a moment before closing with a twinge of disgust.

"No, I don't think so. Robes aren't my style. I'm all about those, Earthly qualities." listing into sultry tones towards the end before pausing in a moment of reflection as she held the draft of fabric. "I know a good seamstress; I'll leave it with her, perhaps it will make nice blanket or shawl. Poor thing could use a warm coat." She threw the cloak over a table and turned back to Artman.

"What's that look on your face, you seem far too amused by something." she chided. Artman simply smiled wistfully as Maven grew more peeved.

"Oh, nothing Maven. I just didn't realize you could be so, charitable. It's a strange look for you." he spoke softly, knowing the moment would fade like dew in morning sunlight in saying so. Maven's face fell a little before snapping to a vengeful visage of indignation.

"What, I don't need it, it's clearly been wasted. I'd rather know it was being put to use rather than wasted in this place. You'd likely just tear it up for rags, wiping yourself down as you please, traipsing through sawdust and wood stain alike, without a thought or care of how you appear to visitors. If we're to live here-" She stopped herself short, a shuddered a moment "If you're intending to stay here, you ought to take better care of yourself."

Artman placed a hand on the half-finished wooden form, somewhere between timber and statue and heaved a sigh. before picking up a chisel and starting up again. "It's just a contract Maven, once I've finished, you'll be paid what you're due. In the meantime, I may ask you to pose on occasion or to take advantage of that dancer's frame you flaunt so easily for my work, but I took this contract because it so closely aligns with my work. What's done is done." The dull thump of the hammer on the chisels handle echoed with dull finality as the conversation was cut short.

Maven made no sound as she stormed towards the door with as much a whirlwind as she'd come, throwing the unwanted cloak into her basket and leaving with a silent fury. Artman heard the door shut in her wake, flinching at the sound.

Silence lingered far longer than he'd thought possible, then sighed raised the hammer and then stopped. Lifting his head to a question he'd near forgotten. "We?" he asked. As if the sawdust would divine him the answer. He shook his head and turned back to his task of hewing out the trunk of his Wooden Dancer. Muttering to himself the same question as before.

"If We are to stay? If, We?"

All he could answer with was the dull thump of his workman's bench and nothing more.

Maven didn't run from the workshop, but neither did she walk. The alleyway rose up around her like familiar watchman's towers, looming over her demanding repentance and submission to a cruel verdict, she fought her way to the light and into the sun touched streets of midday. the hideous odor of her fright left behind and she put feet to motion, marching towards a vague destination along the streetway. The clatter of shoes on cheap cobblestone as she hurried along, dragging the cloud of her muddied affection with her. Strom gray and ever looming, she felt the familiar pressure building between her temples. With a weight of anticipation, she braced herself against the violent thunderclap of devastation that she knew wouldn't come. Falling to one knee, her hands reached up wards to her face, her temples splitting.

Through squinting eyes, she willed the pain to vanish, diminish, disappear, be rid of. She wanted nothing to do with it, because she knew that it was only the beginning of her pain if she couldn't be rid of this wolf within her mind.

All of a sudden, a break. The clouds lifted and the sun graced her cheek once more, in relief she cried but wiped away the tear as she stood. Hurried now, she flew to the haven of her own home. Past decrepit masses, the poor begging for aid and the hungry shadows that lurked out of sight waiting for prey. Throwing the bolt behind her and laying still a moment, she caught her breath. Safe, safe at last from others. but more importantly, safe from the black thought inside her skull.

"Oh, damn you Artman, damn you, you foolish man." she croaked, the pain of her affection making itself known. Pushing into her chest like a hot dagger against scarred flesh. She held it tight against her, held it tight enough to bleed hot tears from her eyes and molten blood from her fingers.

"If only you could love a good woman." she etched into the air with jagged words. "If only you could love, a good woman."